


Asides

by irinokat



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Flogging, Hand Jobs, New chapters are different stories, New tags will appear for new chapters, Oral Sex, Reference To Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Rough Sex, Side Stories, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, difficulty orgasming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: A series of Guzma/Reader side fics, ones that weren't really long enough to make up their own stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be a place for me to dump Guzma/reader fics that just didn't seem to fit anywhere else. I'll tag each chapter here in the notes so people know what they're in for with each new fic. This first one was me just really wanting to write something about some personal issues.
> 
> Tags: depression mentions/suicidal thoughts mentions/difficulty orgasming/vaginal sex/fingering/oral sex

Guzma huffs out, “Fuck, I’m getting close.” He looks into your eyes. “You need me to change what I’m doin’?”

He’s fucking you and rubbing your clit – it already feels good. “Just – this is fine.”

“Fine?” He slows down and raises an eyebrow.

You whine as he pulls farther out of you. “It’s great, it’s great, just keep –” He slams back in. “Fuck, keep going.”

It’s only a couple more minutes before he falls apart, thrusts erratic and jerky, hand falling to your hip and squeezing. He leans forward and buries his face in your shoulder as he finishes, staying still inside you for a moment once he’s done. Then he pulls out completely and yanks the condom off, throwing it in your waste basket. “Sorry,” he pants out as he leans back over you.

“Don’t be.” You pull him down for a kiss.

He reaches down and starts to rub you again, a bit harder this time. “This good?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you, stopping. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

He frowns. “I think this is a good time to remind you that you suck at lying.” His eyebrows knit together. “So what am I doing wrong?”

“It’s not you.” You look away from his face, running your hand down his arm. “I told you I’m on medication for depression, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“So, it makes it really hard for me to, um, orgasm. Like, a lot of times I just can’t.” You look back up at him. He looks hurt. “Sorry.”

He takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face until you’re looking at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks.

“I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal,” you mumble, looking at his mouth to avoid his eyes.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “Of course I do! I just…”

“You didn’t think getting off was important?”

“I mean, I’d love to, but I don’t even know if I can tonight.”

He sighs. “I told you, I kinda pride myself at being good at this. And ‘this’ includes getting my partner off. So you lyin’ about it, like you’re just gonna fake coming just to stop, just makes me feel…” He can’t come up with a word. “Ulgh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should’ve – we should’ve talked more about this.” He presses his forehead against yours. “This is your first time in a long time, right?”

“And my first time with a cis guy.” You smile at him. “And it felt good. Really good. I just… don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“So what exactly felt good?”

“Your dick.”

He grins. “Well, duh, my dick is amazing, but what else? Something I can do right now.”

You blink. “You’re not gonna try right now, are you?”

“Why not?”

“It’s probably gonna take a while,” you warn.

“So? It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do tonight.” His hand covers your breast, gently squeezing. “You like it when I do this?”

“Yeah.” He kisses his way down your neck. “Definitely like the kissing. Liked your fingers in me.” He reaches down and runs his fingers over your entrance. You groan. “I liked your mouth.”

“Told you my tongue works wonders.” You laugh as he trails kisses down your chest and stomach, stopping before he gets to your pussy. “You need some warmin’ up or can I just go?”

“Do what you want.” He slides two fingers inside you, thrusting them a couple times before he starts sucking your clit. You run your hands through his hair as he works. After a while, you ask, “Isn’t your hand sore?”

He lifts up off of you. “Little tired,” he admits. “But worth it. You gettin’ any closer?”

You try to be honest. “It’s like I’m on the edge of it but I can’t get over the edge.”

“See, that’d be fun if we were doin’ that on purpose.” He props his head up on his free hand and looks up at you. “I mean, I get you don’t wanna be depressed, but this shit’s depressing all by itself.”

You shrug. “I mean, sometimes when I’m desperate I think of going off of it, but I mean, it kinda beats being suicidal, y’know?”

He groans and lays his head in your stomach. “You’re killin’ me.” He glances up, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have said that, sorry, sorry –”

“You don’t have to be _that_ sensitive about it.” You push his head back towards your pussy. “I thought we were working on me getting off?”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “I needed a little break, okay?”

“Not surprised.”

He sighs. “You’re just gonna give up on coming, aren’t you?”

“No! I want to!” You sigh. “I just don’t really know what it’d take.”

He thinks. “You ever had someone stick a finger up your ass?”

You nearly choke. “What?!”

“Makes it easier for some people.” He opens the top drawer of your nightstand. “You’ve got lube, right?”

“Okay, maybe we should try that when I know you’re planning on it and I can, like, clean myself out or something.”

He doesn’t stop looking. “Vibrator make it easier?”

“I mean, I pretty much have to use one by myself, yeah.” Embarrassed, you mutter, “Usually two.”

He pulls out a small one. “This for your clit?” You nod. “Is it charged?”

“I think so.”

He puts it in your hand. “Tell you what, I’m starting to warm up again.” He gently rubs his dick and gives a little moan. “Yeah, I think I’ll be ready in a bit. So I keep fingering you until then, and then I fuck you while you use the vibrator. Sound alright?”

“Won’t that be… awkward?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He closes the nightstand drawer and reaches for another condom on top of the nightstand, ripping it open but not pulling it out. Then he goes back to sticking his fingers inside you, kissing you and occasionally moving to tug at your earlobe with his teeth or kiss down your jaw. When he’s ready, he slips the condom on and pushes gently inside you, seating himself more easily than he did the first time. After a few test thrusts, he pulls your hand, holding the vibrator, to your clit. “C’mon, turn it on.”

You find the button and push it a few times until it’s whirring away and press it to your clit. It takes a moment for him to find his rhythm and when he does, he starts snickering a bit, saying, “This feels weird.”

“I can stop –”

“Is it helping?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel so close, just a little bit more, just a little bit –

He picks up his pace. After a few minutes he asks, “Does – does it help if I hit your g-spot?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah!” You’re starting to run low on words you can get out of your mouth.

He pulls out suddenly. “Let’s try a different position. Turn over.” With his help you get on your stomach and get your knees bent under you. He gets his cock back in and it feels so good, brushing over your g-spot every time. It’s a bit harder to hold the vibrator in the right spot, but you’re so close, so close, so –

Suddenly it breaks and you’re gone, eyes screwed shut, clenching around him, some hideous noise coming out of your mouth as you finally feel relief from all the tension in your abdomen. You let the vibrator drop and sag as it washes over you. Guzma grabs your hips and holds you up as he keeps thrusting, but it’s not too long before he’s coming again, pushing deep inside and grunting. When he’s done, he lets go and helps you unfold yourself, half-laying on you as you recover. He gives a sudden jolt and digs the vibrator out from under him, turning it off with a laugh and tossing it to the side. “That good?” he asks.

“Very.” You turn so you’re on your side and able to hug him. After an awkward moment trying to get the condom off, he tosses it off somewhere in the direction of your waste basket and slings an arm over your waist. “I mean, it’s not always gonna be like that,” you warn him.

“Stop bein’ so negative.” He pulls your head in so you’re pressed against his neck and chest. “We’ll try and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. We’ll figure out new stuff to do.”

After a moment, you say, “Thanks.”

“Huh?”

“For trying.”

“’Course I tried. Just – talk to me next time. Shit like this is important.”

“I will.” He’s so nice and warm. You wrap yourself around him and before long, you’re asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's all about depression, oh boy.
> 
> Tags: depression/mentions and talking about suicidal thoughts and ideation

“Hey, babe?”

“Hmm?” It feels like you can barely lift your head off the pillow.

“It's 10:45. You're sleepin' in late.”

“Uh huh.” You really don't feel like getting up, much less speak or form a coherent thought.

“You just need a bit more sleep than usual?” You shrug. “I'll feed your Pokémon, okay?”

The thought of leaving them to fend for themselves this late is enough to get you to sit up. “No, I need to take care of them.”

“I can do it –”

You try to smile. You feel like your face might break if your mouth gets any wider. “No, you've got your own to look after. Just give me a minute.”

Guzma frowns. “You need anything?”

“I'm fine,” you tell him, waving him off.

When he leaves the room, you sling your legs over the side of your bed, about to stand up when you just – stop. It feels like the air's hardened and pushing down on you, trying to crush you under its weight.

After a few minutes of internal struggling, you manage to get to your feet. You pull your Pokéballs out of the pocket of the shorts you wore yesterday and let out Arcanine and Decidueye. Arcanine yips and pushes at your legs like she did when she was little, nearly shoving you over. You pet her and mumble, “Sorry,” as she whines, clearly hungry.

With their help, you stumble into fresh clothes and make it to the kitchen for their food. Arcanine starts chowing down immediately, knocking kibble all over the floor. Decidueye waits for you to bring the rest of the food outside to the yard and eats with your team. Good thing you've got the Poliwag you're trying to train on the team right now instead of Lanturn - you'd have to drag yourself to the beach by Kukui's house to feed her, and you're pretty sure you don't want him to see you like this. Though Poliwag does give you a strong headbutt to the legs for making her wait to eat. You sit down on the porch to watch them and can’t seem to get back up again. At least the sunshine feels nice.

After a while, Guzma comes out and sits with you, watching your Pokemon run around the house and play. He starts and stops saying something several times, finally just asking, “You okay?”

You screw your eyes shut, feeling yourself sag. It shouldn’t be as hard as it is to say it. “No.”

You feel his hand on your back, rubbing small circles into your skin. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” You take a deep breath. “I just… don’t feel like living right now.” You glance up at his face and quickly look away again; he’s so bad at hiding his feelings, and the look of worry is painful. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He stumbles over his words trying to correct himself. “I mean, no, it’s not – it’s not okay, you should definitely not feel like that, but I mean, you can’t help it, right?”

“Not really.” You lean on his shoulder. “I hate it. I keep thinking I’m better and then I start feeling like this and I just – want it to fuck off and never come back.”

He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in close. “Me too.” After a pause, he asks, “You been feelin’ like this for a while? You’ve been sleepin’ in a lot lately.”

“For a few days, yeah.”

“You been feelin’, um…” He’s hesitant to say what’s on his mind. “You been thinkin’ about killin’ yourself again?”

“A little. No planning. Just wanting to be dead.”

He pulls you into his lap and squeezes you tight against him. “You let me know if you do, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Resting his chin on your head, he says, “You know it’d kill me if you – if you did, right? You know –”

“I know, I know, I fucking know!” you shout. He falls quiet, going a little stiff. You sigh. “I – fuck, I’m sorry, but I just – every time I think about it, that’s all I can even tell myself to try to keep holding on, I know it’d hurt you. I feel bad for even thinking about it.”

“You said you can’t control having ‘em. Thoughts like that.”

“Not really, no.”

“Then don’t feel bad about it. Beatin’ yourself down won’t help.”

“I know.”

“You want me to shut up?”

“No.”

“What’ll help?”

You try to relax into his hold on you. “This is nice. I like this.”

“Anything else?”

Hesitantly, you get out your Pokédex and look up a number. “Call my psych in a few days if I’m not feeling better?”

He copies the number into his Dex. “Why not right now?”

You shrug. “Sometimes it just needs a little time to pass. I don’t know if this is a major thing yet.”

“Okay.”

“Called your mom lately?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, if you need her to come visit, I can move out for a while, I can stay with –”

You give an exaggerated groan. “I am not kicking you out ‘cause my mom’s a prude.” With a thought, you add, “And I’m not letting the first time you meet her happen because I’m having a fucking crisis.”

“Could be somethin’ for us to bond over.”

“No! Ugh.” You get up and head for the door. “It’s too hot out here. Let’s find something to do in the air conditioning.”

“I mean, I always got a few ideas for things we can do –”

You turn back to him. “Not right now, okay? Maybe later but I just – I dunno what I even want right now, but not that.”

He nods. “We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

 

A few days later, you’re still sleeping in, and your moods get worse and worse. The sense of pressure shoving you down gets hard to fight against; you end up lying on the couch more often than not once you do get up. You try to read books, your old favorites that always feel good to sink back into, but even they have trouble holding your attention. Physical activity, any at all, starts to sound like a punishment than a pleasure. You can get out to feed your Pokémon in the morning, but that’s about all you can manage chore-wise.

To your surprise, Guzma picks up the slack you’re leaving, taking care of dishes, doing more cooking than you realized he was capable of (though he still orders out for dinner), even helping make your bed and neaten up the living room after your Pokémon tear through it. When you have moments where you can’t get off the couch, he wraps his hoodie around you and makes sure you’re comfortable before he leaves the room. At some point he starts digging into your tea stash and brings you a fresh mug a couple times a day.

One morning when he comes to wake you up, he says, “I got you an appointment with your psychiatrist two weeks from now. They said they couldn’t fit you in any earlier unless you’re actually – well, y’know.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Are you?” You shake your head. “That’s good.”

You look up at him and weakly say, “I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” He sits on the bed next to you, hand on your shoulder.

You think you might have started crying if you had the energy to do it. “I’m just fucking off and you’re doing all this shit for me and you’ve got your own crap to deal with and –”

“You’re not just fucking off.” He leans in close. “You think I don’t see how hard it is for you just to get out of bed? But you’re still doing it.”

“And then jack shit else.”

“You’re takin’ care of your Pokémon. The rest is shit I can do. I mean, I can’t make you better, but I can at least do laundry and shit.”

You try to smile at him. “You still don’t separate the wash right.” You hear yourself and groan. “I can’t believe I’m – I’m not complaining about you helping out, I just –” He hugs you, pulling you up to a sitting position. “I don’t get why you haven’t left yet,” you mumble into his chest.

He stares down at you. “Do you really think I’d just say fuck it and run like that?” He sounds really stung.

“No, I just – I’m throwing so much shit on you to deal with. This is your first time actually having to deal with my bullshit.” You shrink away from him. “I wouldn’t blame you if it’s… if it’s too much to handle.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s only been a few days, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but knowing me, this is going to be a thing for a while. Like, maybe a few months.”

“So?” He scratches the back of his head, thinking. “Okay, you know how you took me in when I punched out Dad and needed somewhere to stay? Think of this as repaying you for that.”

“But I barely did anything, I just –”

“You dealt with my sorry ass and that’s a lot more than I could’ve asked for.” He presses you closer to him. “Plus it meant we finally, y’know, got together. I think that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, but this is a lot bigger than that.” You look up at him. “This is most likely gonna be the rest of my life.”

“Like I just got over all my issues in a day.” He lets go of you and takes your hands in his. “I’m not just gonna give up on you like that. You’re worth more than that to me.”

You stare at his fingers. “We’ll see how you feel after another week or two of this.”

 

He goes to your psych appointment with you. He stays around, keeping your life in some semblance of a routine, reminding you that you have to eat meals regularly, helping you get up in the mornings. When he needs time to himself, he makes sure you’re tucked up safe with a book or a video game and his jacket before he heads out. Sometimes when you’ve managed a shower and you feel a little better, he asks if you want friends over – Plumes comes and visits a few times, and Lillie stops by for tea.

Eventually, about a month after you see the psychiatrist, your new medicine starts to kick in. You manage to start doing a few things around the house again before you’re completely wiped out. Slowly the feeling of dying inside starts to fade. He sticks through it all, giving you hugs when you need them, washing dishes when he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

When you think you might feel somewhat back to normal, you announce, “I think I’m feeling better.”

He smiles. “Good. You get to sweep up Arcanine’s fur this week.”

“I told you you’d get tired of it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was joking.”

You lean into him. “Seriously, thanks. You’ve been doing so much.”

“It’s worth it if it’s helping.” He hugs you close. “See? We can work through this.”

You still have your doubts, but he’s been here through all this and he’s still here for some reason anyways. “Just one day at a time, I guess.”

“If that’s how we have to face it, I think it’s doable.”

You put your arms around him and think that maybe it is, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend posted this photoset (clothed bondage) http://boyswanna-be-her.tumblr.com/post/159722255702 and suddenly all I could see was sub!Guzma tied up, cue this little fic. It was more difficult to write than I anticipated but I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> Features: sub!Guzma/dom!Reader/bondage/flogging/edging/blowjob/handjob/riding/aftercare/people being unsure they're doing stuff right

You step back and admire your work for a moment, proud of yourself. Guzma sits naked and blindfolded on the kitchen chair you had him pull into the bedroom earlier, hands bound behind his back and behind the back of the chair, the same purple rope wrapped around his thighs and waist. The pattern the rope is tied in creates triangles over his hips and frames his half-hard cock nicely. It took a few tries to get the ropes in the right place, but now that everything’s tied up well, it looks great. You take his phone and snap a few pictures of him so he can see what he looks like later. Then you take a few pictures of yourself in the mirror – you’re only wearing a tanktop and panties, he’ll enjoy these when he finds them.

Running your fingers over his collarbone, you say, “You were such a good boy, sitting still for me like that.” He leans into your touch, though it’s difficult for him to move. You move your hand up his neck to his chin and tilt his face up towards you. “But I just can’t forget how bad you were this week.” He starts to tremble. You squeeze your fingers, tightening your hold on him. “You know I told you not to jack off last time we played.”

“It’s been so long,” he breathes. “You know I can’t go a week –”

“Five days,” you correct him. “I’m trying to teach you some patience. You completely ignored the lesson.”

“I just can’t,” he protests, “I can’t go that long, I need some relief.”

You let go of him. “So you purposely disobeyed me.”

He hangs his head; if he could see, he’d be staring at the floor. “I tried, I promise! I just – I can’t…” He stops talking. You wait for him to respond again. Finally, he mumbles something under his breath.

Leaning in closer, you ask, “What was that?”

Only speaking a little louder, he says, “’m sorry.”

“You know you have to do better than that. It’s hard to believe you with that tone.”

He sighs. It takes another few moments for him to say at a normal volume, “I’m sorry.” You wait another few seconds. “Ma’a –” He cuts himself off and says your name.

You need to work on him getting that word out of his vocabulary. It reminds you a little too much of how he used to talk to Lusamine. Hopefully that’s not who he’s picturing when you talk to him like this. (Besides, you’re only 25, you’re way too young for “ma’am.”) You run your fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face. “I know, I know, it’s hard for you. But that’s why I wanted you to try. I know you can do it.” You give his hair a tug. “But you still need to be punished.”

“Right.” He’s shaking a little harder now in anticipation.

You let go of him and walk over to your dresser, examining the toys he’s laid out. Some of them you haven’t used yet, and you aren’t ready to try them while he’s tied up like this. You think about the ball gag, but end up putting it aside – you want to hear him today, and it’ll be easier for him to use his safe word if he needs to. You’re still pretty new to this, and while you’re more confident than when you started, it still takes a while to pick out something you know you can use well.

You approach him with the riding crop in your hand. The end’s wide and flat; you run it down his chest, over a nipple, down his body to his thigh. He shivers when you pause. You tap it lightly against his thigh. “You did manage to hold out for a few days, at least, so this won’t be too bad.” You hit him lightly with it, enough to give a little sting. “Let’s say… ten strokes to each leg?” He nods. You rub the inside of his thigh with it for a moment before pulling away and striking him hard, making him grunt. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.” He’s already fully hard just from the teasing and the single hit.

Careful not to go too near his dick, you start hitting him, not establishing a rhythm, letting him build up more anticipation as he waits. It just makes it worse for him if he waits to thank you. By the end of the first ten on his right leg, he’s shaking, skin red, breathing ragged.

When you move to his left leg, you start out slow but hard, making him shout with the first slap.  After a couple more hits, you tilt his head up and ask, “Is this okay?”

“More,” he begs, “please.”

“You’re sure?”

“I – I need it. Please, please.” You run the end of the crop over his thigh before you start hitting him again. He cries out every time the tip of the crop lands. When you finish, he’s breathing hard, legs shaking, dick twitching, already leaking.

You set the crop down and return to him, cupping his cheek. “You can be such a good boy. You take punishments so well.” Now his face is turning red. “Keep being good for me, okay?” He nods. Tilting his head, you kiss him, tugging on his lower lip with yours.

He groans as your lips and hands make their way down his body, stopping to explore everywhere. Eventually you’re kneeling in front of him, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other traveling back up his waist. “Tell me when you get close to coming, okay?” He just nods. “Okay?”

“I will.”

“Good.” You kiss your way from his hip up his shaft until you’ve nearly reached the head of his cock, then turn and do the same on his other side. Hearing his relieved moan when you take his cock into your mouth is so satisfying.

He manages to last through several minutes of you licking and wrapping your lips around his dick before he says, “I’m gonna – gonna come.” Immediately you pull off and let go of him. He groans, in frustration this time.

“I told you I was trying to teach you some patience.” You stand up and run your fingers through his hair. “Don’t you want to be good for me tonight?”

“Y-yes,” he says quietly.

You lean forward and talk quietly into his ear. “I can finish you off now, or I can keep going with what I want to do. What do you want?”

He swallows. “Do it your way.”

You smile. “Good.” While you wait for him to come down, you rub your fingertips over his scalp. He slowly relaxes under your touch. You move your hands to his chest, teasing his nipples with little pinches and caresses.

When he seems ready again, you take his cock in your hand. “Tell me when you’re close.” He reluctantly nods. You start to lazily pump him while you kiss and bite his neck, leaving more visible marks than the ones you’ve made on his thighs.

“Fuck, I’m gonna – I’m gonna –” You pull your hand away. He sags, frustrated.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face into your breasts. “I promise I’ll let you come. You’ve just gotta wait for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles into your skin.

He manages to hold out through a couple more teases. When he’s finally ready, you slip out of your panties and carefully sit on his lap. He winces but you’re pretty sure he can take it – his thighs are just going to be incredibly sore in the morning. You kiss him, rubbing his shoulders. “You’ve been so good tonight. Are you ready to finish?”

“Fuck yes,” he sighs.

“Good.” You reach down and take hold of his cock again. For a moment, you just rub the tip over your lips and around your clit, before you finally press his head inside you. It’s a relief for both of you as you sink down on him. You take hold of his shoulders, rocking and bouncing in his lap, enjoying the way he fills you up. As you keep going, you start talking. “You always feel so good. I love this, you listen to me and do what I tell you so well, you’re so good –” It gets harder to think and speak clearly as you keep going. “Fuck, this feels awesome, oh, yes, yeah, yeah –” You let the words turn into moans as you reach down and rub your clit.

Guzma groans when you come, grunting as you contract around him. You keep going as you start to come down, waiting for him to finish. Finally, he says, “Can – can I come this time?”

“Yeah – yes, do it.” You rock your hips as his cock swells and twitches inside you, enjoying listening to his satisfied moans. You hold him for a few minutes, resting, as he softens inside you. Once you’ve got your strength back, you get off him, letting him slip out of you. You slip your underwear back on before you untie him, letting him finally move. “You okay?” you ask as you take off the blindfold.

“Kinda stiff,” he admits as he gets to his feet, legs wobbling. He touches the inside of his thigh and hisses.

“Did I hit you too hard?” you ask, worried.

He shakes his head. “No, but – god, ow.”

You take his hand and lead him into the bathroom, making him lie down in the tub as you run a bath. The hot water stings his abused skin at first, but soon he’s relaxing, going almost limp as the heat works its way into his muscles. You sit next to the tub, hand on his shoulder. “Was that okay?”

“Fuck, it was good.” He smiles as he leans back. “I’m gonna be feelin’ this one for days.”

“You’re sure I didn’t hit you too hard?”

He gives you a tired grin. “Stop worryin’ about it. I’ve taken way worse than that.” After a moment, he asks, “Any rules for me this week?”

“Nah, you get a break. I know last week was rough.” You run your fingers through his hair again. “Besides, I wanna have sex sometimes outside of doing this stuff.”

“You like doin’ this, right?” he asks suddenly. “I’m not forcin’ you into this, am I?”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t okay with it.” You sigh. “I mean, I still worry I’m hurting you too bad sometimes…”

“You’re not.” He flicks the drain open with his toe. “Water’s gettin’ cold.”

You help him towel off before you kick him out. “Get in bed. I need to pee.” He laughs as he shuts the door behind him.

When you climb into bed, he wraps himself around you. “Thanks for agreeing to try this.”

You bury your face in his chest. “Thanks for being a good boy.” You don’t have to look up at him to know he’s blushing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get back to writing my actual fics soon, I swear. I also apologize in advance for the dirty talk. And for this whole thing - I have no idea what I'm doing. Heavily inspired by yuurivoice's various audio posts.
> 
> Features: dom!Guzma/sub!reader/light bondage/lowkey knifeplay (no blood)/consensual nonconsent/degradation (lot of name calling)/sex toys/sub drop/talk about depression and self-hatred

You sit on Guzma’s bed, hands and arms bound behind your back, gag tight around your head. He’s not in here; wondering when he’s going to start is letting some anticipation build in your stomach. He makes you wait long enough for it to be a little bit painful.

The door bursts open, then slams shut. You wince at the noise and the force of it. He grins. “So what do we have here?” He saunters forward and tilts your chin up to look at him. “Aren’t you a pretty sight?” He leans in and whispers in your ear, “And you’re all mine.” His tone makes you shiver.

You tense when he pulls a switchblade out of his pocket and flicks it open. His head is still right next to yours; he’s probably looking at your hands, checking for a signal. You keep your fists tightly clenched. He brings the blade of the knife to your neck, pressing it gently into your skin; any more pressure and you’ll bleed. You hold your breath and try not to move. “I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he whispers, “and you’re gonna take it like a good little girl, got it?” Your answer is muffled by the gag; you don’t dare to nod. “Like I give a shit how you feel about it.”

He pulls the blade from your neck. You take the opportunity to pull in a deep breath before he grabs the collar of your shirt and drags the knife down it. In a few seconds he’s got your shirt completely torn open, pulling it apart. He puts the knife down and drags his finger across the top of your bra, picking at the lace. “Fancy,” he says, fingers slipping under the strap. “You dressed up for me?” He pulls the strap down your arm. “Knew you were a little slut.” He looks over your shoulder again before he tugs the bra down, exposing your breasts.

Suddenly his mouth is on your shoulder, biting down hard. You cry out, noises strangled by the gag as he marks you and pinches your skin, the pain sending sparks down your body. When he’s done, he grabs you by the hair and pushes your face into his crotch, rubbing your cheek and nose over his bulge. “Look how hard you’ve already made me.” You can hear his smirk in his voice. “Bet you’re so wet for me, you little whore. Bet you love this.” His free hand runs down your back, over your ass and between your legs, fingers pressing the seam of your shorts. “You want this cock, huh? You want me to fuck you?” You moan, pressing back against his hand. “What makes you think you deserve it?” He tugs your hair hard, wrenching your head back. His hand moves to your face, thumb running down your nose, over your lips and the gag. “Maybe you can earn it.”

He pushes you back on the bed before he unbuttons your shorts and rips them down your legs. Once he’s gotten them off, the knife comes out again, this time cutting through your underwear. His fingers run over the inside of your thighs, where you’ve been dripping, right up to your lips – he thumbs them apart and gets a good eyeful of your pussy. You wriggle your hips, trying to get him to slip a finger in. He swats your hip. “None of that now. Can’t have anything ruining your cunt for my cock.” He takes his hands off and rummages through the top drawer of his nightstand. He comes up with a small buttplug and a bottle of lube. “Never said anything about your ass, though.” He gives the plug a generous coating of lube before he runs a slick finger around your asshole, pushing partway in and giving you a little stretching before he pops the plug in, fucking you with it for a few minutes, making you squirm before he presses it all the way in and leaves it.

Then he pulls out a vibrator, running it over your pussy before pressing it against your clit. He turns it on to the lowest setting. You groan as the pleasure heightens. “Come for me, slut. Show me how good I’m treatin’ a piece of shit like you.” He doesn’t realize how worked up he’s already gotten you until your hips start bucking and your legs start shaking, warmth surging from your clit through the rest of your body. “Wow, already?” You lie back, trembling, vibrator feeling too intense as you come down. Instead of pulling it away, he turns it up and grabs some medical tape out of the drawer, using several strips to force it to keep still on your pussy. The stimulation’s becoming painful, but your pussy feels so empty – it’s so frustrating.

He sits on the bed, pulls you so you’re on your knees and presses your face against his crotch again. “Let me see what you can do with your mouth,” he says as he pulls the knot in the gag loose. You pant for breath as he takes the gag away. “You’re gonna take every inch of my cock down your throat, and you’re gonna love it,” he says as he pulls his pants and boxers down. “You want that?”

“Yeah,” you answer as he strokes his cock.

“What was that?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“F-fuck my mouth,” you tell him.

He grins. “Fuckin’ slut.” He presses his head to your lips; he’s already leaking. He lets you lick it for a moment before he digs his fingers into your hair – his other hand is on your jaw, his thumb pushing down on your bottom lip until you open your mouth wide. He takes hold of his cock and shoves it in your mouth, hand in your hair guiding your head down it. He starts out gently, just sliding your head back and forth a few times as you adjust to his size. Then he’s alternating between dragging your head up and down his cock and thrusting his hips, making you gag on occasion. Between that and the vibrator, you come again, moaning around his cock, pushing your hips down against the mattress. The stimulation is too much again, but he doesn’t do anything about the vibrator, continuing to fuck your throat.

When he’s satisfied with your mouth, he finally pulls you off of him, letting you take a few deep breaths before tilting your head up to look at him. “Think your cunt’s ready for me?”

“Please,” you whine, “fuck me.”

He lets go of you. “You sure you can take me?”

“Yes, please!”

“Such a needy little whore.” He moves until he’s behind you, pulling off the vibrator, careful with the tape – it still hurts when he rips it off. For a moment your clit has some relief as he pushes his cock between your ass cheeks, letting it run hard over the plug. Then he slides it between your lips, but not in, cock head running over your clit. He uses his cock to rub your clit for little while, making you writhe under him.

Finally his head presses into your entrance. “You better be fuckin’ ready,” he says, pausing long enough  to let you object if you need to. You push your ass back, trying to take more of him. He pushes in, inch by excruciating inch, the plug in your ass making him feel even bigger than usual. “Holy fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes as he sheathes himself completely. Again, he starts out slow, letting you warm up as he gently pushes in and out, before he starts pounding you, fucking you into the mattress. With your arms bound behind your back, your face is pressed against the bed – you manage to turn your head to breathe a little easier.

He keeps talking as he works. “Knew you’d take my cock so good, you filthy little slut – bet this is all you’ve ever wanted, big cock fuckin’ you til you can’t think anymore, cunt so full it hurts. Fuckin’ whore, pussy just waitin’ for me to ruin it, me usin’ you as a cumrag.” He grabs a fistful of hair and tugs hard. “That’s all you’re good for, disgusting little shit, takin’ my cock and gettin’ filled up with my cum.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until he slows down, letting go of your hair. Before he can say anything and ruin it, you beg, “Keep going, please, fuck, keep going!”

He pauses just long enough to pick up the vibrator and turn it on again, holding it to your clit. “Go ahead, come on my cock, show me what a filthy slut you are. Comin’ for me so much, you love this, you whore –” He interrupts himself with a groan as you clench tight around him, coming a third time. He keeps holding the vibrator against you. You choke back a sob from the overwhelming stimulation as he keeps fucking you, keeps slamming his cock over your g-spot and into your cervix, keeps letting the vibrator wreck your clit. “You little bitch, living for my cock inside you. Make it so the only word you know is my name, fuck you til you can’t walk anymore, can’t see straight. Keep you tied up in here, usin’ you whenever I fuckin’ want. Comin’ in all your holes, fuckin’ you raw, leavin’ you a wreck. That’s all you are, my cocksleeve, warm fuckholes, canvas for my cum. Fuckin’ destroy you for anyone else, anything else.”

You sob as you somehow come again, clit aching, pussy sore. He finally takes away the vibrator and fucks you in earnest, keeps caling you his slut, his bitch, his cumhole – he pushes himself all the way in and holds himself tight inside as he finishes, swelling and twitching deep within you. He pulls out – you can feel his eyes on you as he watches his cum drip down your thighs.

His fingers are gentle as he undoes the knots binding your wrists and elbows together. He rubs your back and your arms as you lie there, shuddering. “You okay?” he asks quietly, none of the menace left in his voice.

“Uh huh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

He helps you roll over onto your back, brushing your hair out of your face before he starts to wipe your tears away with his thumbs. “You’re still cryin’.”

“That – that was just – really intense.” You think about sitting up, but your ass and pussy protest. He gently pulls out the plug, taking it to the bathroom. Then he comes back, helps you get the remains of your shirt and your bra off, and picks you up, holding you tight against his chest. He sets you down in the bathtub before he starts wiping away some of the mess between your legs with toilet paper. The hot water is soothing to your aching muscles when he starts it running.

Once the tub’s full, he sits next to you on the bathroom floor and says, “What’s wrong?”

You curl into yourself. “Nothing.”

He sighs. “How many times do I have to tell you how bad you are at lyin’?” When you don’t respond, he says, “This isn’t how you react when we’re done.”

Leaning your head on the shower wall, you mumble, “Sometimes – sometimes I think that’s really all I’m good for.”

“I knew I should’ve stopped when you started cryin’. Shit.” He places his fingers on your cheek and turns your head until you have to look at him. “You need to tell me when you start feelin’ like that. That’s what your safe word’s for.”

“But – it felt so good – god, that was amazing.” You can feel more tears pushing up, trying to make their way out.

“It’s not worth it if you’re gonna feel like shit after.”

“I don’t. I mean – not more than usual, I just – what you say feels so real sometimes. That I’m just a slut and –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He hugs your shoulders, not minding the water splashing out of the tub and getting him wet. “Okay, first, that’s not true at all, I don’t fucking mean it. I thought you liked it and that’s the only fuckin’ reason I said that shit.”

“I do like it!” you protest.

“But you don’t know where the line is between gettin’ called names while we’re playin’ and reality.” He sighs. “We can’t do this if you’re gonna take it that seriously.”

“But –”

His voice raises. “We can’t do this at all if I can’t trust you to tell me when I need to stop!” He realizes how loud he’s talking and sighs. “I’m sorry. But I can’t do this if I know I’m just makin’ things worse for you.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re fuckin’ cryin’ right now!” He presses his face into your neck. “Don’t – don’t fuckin’ lie to me. I thought we were done with that shit.”

You lean your head on his. “I’m sorry,” you say. “But we both have fun – and – and – and then my brain takes it and twists it and –” You break down sobbing.

“I know,” he says. “I know you don’t want to, I know it’s not your fault. But it happens and it’s a problem. We can’t just drop it.” He pauses. “Do you need me to call your therapist?”

You shake your head. “I’ve got an appointment next week.”

“Okay.” He runs his hand through your hair, massaging your scalp. “You’re wonderful, okay? You’re the best person I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” you sigh.

“I’m not.” He kisses your cheek. “You’re amazing. You’re an awesome girlfriend, you’re a great Pokémon trainer, you’re a good friend. You have so many people who care about you. Just – just try to remember that.” He lets go of you and pulls off his shirt.  “Let me clean you up, okay?”

You flick the drain open. “Okay.” Once he’s fully undressed, he helps you to your feet, gets in, and turns the shower on, rubbing shampoo through your hair, trying to be gentle with the soap where he knows the bruises will show up later.

When you’re dry and dressed again, you find him making a little nest on the couch in the living room out of blankets and pillows. “We kinda ruined the sheets,” he says, embarrassed, as he sits you down and covers you up with your favorite afghan. “I think the wet spot’s soaked through to the bed.”

“Told you I was into it.” He rolls his eyes as he hands you the book you’ve been working on. “I think I’ll live.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sits next to you and grabs a video game controller. “It’s not like you haven’t slept through worse.”

“True.” You ruffle his hair. “I have to sleep through you snoring.”

“Ha ha ha.” He smiles at you and pats your foot. “I love you, okay?”

“Love you too.”


End file.
